


Discovering You

by teatales



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Affection, Aftercare, Allo Crowley, Aromantic Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aromantic Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has Self-Esteem Issues (Good Omens), Changing Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Getting Together, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Pet Names, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Sex, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Relationship Negotiation, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Touch-Starved, Touching, queer platonic relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatales/pseuds/teatales
Summary: How an aroace angel and an allo demon navigate love, affection, and sex now that the world didn't end.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	1. soft spoken words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZehWulf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZehWulf/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Holy Palmers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24623977) by [Fyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre). 
  * Inspired by [eternity is a long, long time (i wouldn’t mind spending it by your side)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22117198) by [Setkia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia). 
  * Inspired by [Scratching That Itch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708450) by [ZehWulf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZehWulf/pseuds/ZehWulf). 



> First up, this is a thank you gift for ZehWulf, who is my amazing, wonderful, incredible beta for my fic It's In The Stars! I am so grateful for everything she has done for me and this is just a very small token of my appreciation. IITS has been infinitely improved with your help and I am a much better writer because of you. Thank you <3 
> 
> This is my take on an ineffable aroace/allo relationship, the negotiation and exploration of physical intimacy, and all that entails. As an aro ace-spec person this is one of my favourite topics to explore! As shown in the 'inspired by' section, there are so many great versions of this in our fandom that I would really recommend you read if you haven't already. TBH I have a lot more thoughts on this specific dynamic but most of this fic is already written, so I'll probably write another version some day. 
> 
> There are warnings in each chapter for what I think may be difficult content (reach out if you need something specific) but please do read the tags. There will be explicit content in chapters 4 and 6.
> 
> fic and chapter titles from I Love You Always Forever by Donna Lewis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a confession to make. So does Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: misunderstandings galore including around aromantic identity being 'unfeeling'. everything works out fine though

It didn’t go how Crowley had planned. 

He thought they had been building up to this thing, this relationship, for six thousand years and this was the given conclusion. Obviously Aziraphale couldn’t do anything—not without the bastards Upstairs fucking his psyche up six ways to Sunday. It wasn’t as if mirror images of him weren’t everywhere he looked—hate groups claiming to be anything but teaching fear and repression and guilt. It leaped off the angel in waves, sometimes, when he forgot to hide it from Crowley. Crowley could tell when he hid it, anyway. 

But they were free. They had survived a failed attempting at destroying basically they had ever known and successfully convinced their ex-bosses that they were practically unkillable. It’s not to say Crowley thought everything would run smoothly (look at his track record-when had anything  _ ever?) _, particularly with Aziraphale’s and his own trauma in tow, but he hadn’t expected… this. 

“Fine, an-Aziraphale. Must’ve… read things wrong, or something. Look, I’ll just go, alright? Leave you and your books in peace,” Crowley mumbled to the floor as he strode towards the front door. He knew he was pathetic. What kind of self-respecting demon was he, bringing flowers and chocolates and love confessions to an angel? All he wanted to do was get to the Bentley as quickly as possibly and disappear into his bed for who knows how long. What he wanted most was to hold it together enough that he didn’t start crying. 

He reached for the doorknob but was stopped by a sudden blast of magic. 

“Stop!” Aziraphale cried out from behind him. 

Crowley did stop, but only because he knew he wouldn’t be able to open the door without serious damage to the shop. And despite everything, he still didn’t want to hurt Aziraphale. 

“Crowley, look, could you  _ please _ just sit down and listen to what I have to say? I know it isn’t ideal but I don’t believe it is as bad as you may have… misheard.” 

Crowley closed his eyes and tried to come up with a plan that would get him out of there with the least amount of damage. 

_ "Please,”  _ Aziraphale all but begged. “I only ask that you listen. After that you can do what you like.” 

Hands shoved in his pockets in an image on nonchalance. That was a good start. Crowley pivoted on the toes of his snakeskin shoes to face Aziraphale. He was much closer than Crowley had thought and he barely suppressed a yelp of surprise. 

Aziraphale seemed to study him for a moment. Crowley didn’t want to know what he saw on his face and let out a sigh of relief as he turned and lead them back to the sitting area. 

They settled back into their respective positions. Aziraphale in his well worn chair, Crowley perched on the edge of the sofa, ready to flee at any moment. 

Crowley wasn’t sure that he could say anything without breaking down so he waited for Aziraphale to compose himself and speak. 

“Please do try to listen to watch I am actually saying, Crowley,” he began. Crowley continued to study the carpet stain near his foot, but nodded. 

“I love you, Crowley. More than any other creature on this Earth; more than anyone I have ever known. I love you as my friend and companion, my adversary and co-conspirator. I am sorry I have not always been able to show or tell you, and that my conduct has communicated otherwise. But we are... free-agents, as it were, and if I could, I would spend all of the rest of my days—far more than six millennia—by your side and in your company.” 

That was completely contradictory to what the angel had just said moments before. Crowley was so confused that he didn’t get time to interrupt the second half of the speech. 

“I am not  _ in  _ love with you, my dear. I know it seems like such a small word but it does make a difference. This… romance, the butterflies-in-stomachs, swell-of-violins sort is not something I’ve ever experienced. The love that I feel for you is unlike any other and I am sorry if it is not enough.” 

Crowley licked his suddenly dry lips and attempted to form a coherent sentence. “Wha.  _ What.  _ Do you mean?”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, my dear, but you did communicate your intentions about having… romantic feelings towards me, yes?” Aziraphale offered him a small smile. “That is simply not what I’m capable of—if I were I would undoubtedly return your sentiments," he added in an undertone. "Angels are built for wider, more abstract concepts of love. All creatures great and small, without playing favourites. The intimate attraction with the, oh, what do humans call them? Mashes?” 

It took a few moments for him to understand what Aziraphale meant. “Crushes, angel?”

He nodded. “Quite. Thank you. And the touching and the… expectations. Well, I’m not exactly suited to it.”

Crowley frowned. “And that changes anything, how?”

“Just because I do not experience the same feelings, or perhaps feelings in the same way—I did say I love you, my dear, and I do very much mean it—does not mean we are unable to endeavour into a union not unlike that of a traditional relationship. If that is what you were interested in.”

Wasn’t that a bloody ocean’s worth of information to take in? “So you’d want to what? Date me? Without feeling anything?”

Aziraphale flinched. Fuck. 

“I’m not some kind of automaton, Crowley! I have a lot of feelings, including  _ love  _ for you, and we can dissect it into types of attraction if you like but quite a lot of it simple defies categorisation. I do not feel romantic attraction so if I am not enough for you then perhaps you better go like you so wish to.” He sniffed. 

Crowley sighed and took off his glasses. “What a pair we make, hmm?” He asked as he rubbed a hand through his hair. 

“Quite.” From Aziraphale’s tone it was obvious he was still upset. 

“‘M sorry, angel. I should’ve listened instead of assuming. It’s hard, when you think your heart's being broken, y’know.” 

The steely gaze softened considerably. “Of course, my dear.” 

“I’m not. I dunno. Sure, yet, of how this,” Crowley waved a hand between them, “would work. But I think I want to try? Feelings have turned my brain to mush for now, I think.” 

“Perfectly understandable. Feel free to return home, Crowley. Or…” 

“Or?” Crowley prompted.

“Would you like a hug, perhaps? I know we haven’t been particularly big on physical affection over the years, but I do know that they’re an excellent source of comfort…” 

Crowley has already stood up and was a second away from throwing himself on Aziraphale.  


“Come here,” he said with a gentleness that threatened to break Crowley all over again. He collapsed into the angel’s open arms and was enveloped by soft warmth. 


	2. secret moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a nightmare. Aziraphale has a proposal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: nightmares/trauma from the bookshop fire, Aziraphale discusses his insecurities/low self esteem including body insecurity

It was a slow negotiation. Although both had been brave in the moment, outside of the adrenaline rush Crowley was reluctant to talk about her _feelings._ Despite her imaginings, fantasies, and hopes over the years; centuries of build up to what she thought the relationship would be, reality was far more awkward. 

Neither of them were particularly good at being human. The romantic relationship of Crowley’s dreams and the “queer platonic relationship” (as Aziraphale informed her) that was their new reality wasn’t something either had experience in. It was difficult, and involved ridiculous amounts of communication and frustration. 

After a few weeks they were getting somewhere, even if Crowley grumbled all the while. 

They at least spoke on the phone once a day. Most days still Crowley would make the drive from Mayfair to Soho, either to visit the bookshop or take Aziraphale out somewhere. A few days after her… _confession,_ Aziraphale had failed to pick up the phone after multiple calls, and Crowley broke her own speeding record as she made her way over. Aziraphale had simply been lost in rereading one of his favourite books for several hours. 

There had been quite a few tears that day. 

Time together was good. That they didn’t need to construct some flimsy excuse or happen to run into each other somewhere to spend time together. The fear that it would all be yanked away by the powers that be still remained, but it grew duller by the day. The bookshop still made Crowley uneasy but it was Aziraphale’s _home,_ the one place he had to himself, a place for himself, rather than the ideal of upstairs that they wanted him to be. She couldn’t ask him to move after everything else. Crowley already asked for too much. 

The affection was a nice surprise. Sure, Aziraphale had _said_ that he was happy having a relationship similar to an allo one (and wasn’t Crowley on her way to having a whole new vocab), but that didn’t necessarily mean Crowley got her hopes up. 

It was good, to use a four letter word. Nice, even. Hugs in greeting and farewell, a cheek kiss if Aziraphale was feeling particularly bold. Sometimes he still moved on instinct—recoiling as if he had realised he crossed some great boundary and was about to be caught at any moment—but after a bit he would settle back in. Sitting together on the sofa, lingering brushes of hands against glass. Crowley still craved more and more and more but she couldn’t startle Aziraphale, after everything. So they would go slow. And it would be fine. 

That was until Crowley had a nightmare. 

She had promised to take Aziraphale out to lunch. A new French place a couple of blocks away—posh, big on desserts, exactly what the angel would like. So even though she woke up at three in the morning, unnecessary heart pounding and somehow both sweating and shivering, she was determined to make their date. Appointment. Whatever. 

It was fire. It almost always was, these days. Fire and burning and heat and an incomprehensible void. The size of her bed made her feel so small, and so alone. 

But she knew Aziraphale was fine. Crowley told herself this as she stumbled out of her room and into the en-suite. 

She waved the lights on with a shaking hand, wincing at the sudden glow in the room. Crowley splashed some cold water on her face to try and get a hold of herself. As she stared at her gaunt appearance in the mirror she knew she wouldn’t be getting back to sleep any time soon. 

Crowley wrapped her robe around her as she made her way to the kitchen. Hopefully the copious amounts of coffee she was about to consume would get her functioning in time to pick up Aziraphale. 

^^^

Crowley winced as the bell rang out as she entered the bookshop. It did that every time, but was it particularly loud today? It wouldn’t do to think about it. She picked her way around piles of books and shelves towards the back where no doubt Aziraphale was. She could hear his off-key humming coming even from the doorway. 

Even with her sunglasses on everything was so bright. Fingers crossed the restaurant had mood lighting. She doubted it since it was a Tuesday afternoon, but one could hope. 

“Hey, angel,” Crowley murmured as she leaned on the doorway to the office. She folded her arms in front of her to hide her shaking hands. 

Aziraphale turned with a delighted smile on his round face. “Crowley! Don’t you look beautiful, my dear?” He walked up to her, possibly in hope of a small kiss or a hug. 

The sudden movement into her space made Crowley suppress a flinch. 

A frown crossed Aziraphale’s face as he stopped walking. Fuck, Crowley didn’t want him to notice that anything was wrong. “Ready for lunch?” She asked in what she hoped was her normal voice. 

The frown deepened. “Yes. I mean. Crowley, dearest, are you alright? You seem quite tense.” 

“Yeah, didn’t sleep well. C’mon, angel, let’s not be late.” Crowley quickly turned and started to head back to the Bentley. She figured Aziraphale would follow behind but halfway to the door she still didn’t hear his footsteps behind her. 

Crowley turned slightly. “Angel?”

“Could you come here, Crowley?” He called from the office. 

She closed her eyes behind her sunglasses with a sigh and slumped back into the room. “Yeah?” 

Aziraphale was still where she had left him. 

“I know perhaps I haven’t historically been the most observant,” he began with a wince, “but I can tell when something is wrong.” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” she muttered defensively. 

“I wish I could believe you. But Crowley…” he sighed. “It’s only that I want us to get to a place where you can trust me, and talk to me about whatever is so clearly on your mind.” Aziraphale twisted his hands over and over each other. “I know it’s hard— _I know_ it is, but I wish it all the same.” 

The angel sounded so despondent. More importantly, he sounded heart-breakingly concerned for Crowley. Nobody ever cared about her. Never like this. After the night she had had and the centuries she had endured, alone, it was all too much. 

Tears streamed down her face, from beneath her glasses, as she fought to remain upright. Suddenly she felt incredibly weak. 

“Oh, come here, sweetheart,” Aziraphale said as he reached out for her. She all but collapsed into his arms as she sobbed uncontrollably. 

The rush of a miracle and Aziraphale sat down into his chair, bringing Crowley with him. She ended up sprawled on top of his lap, her wet, bare face buried in his neck. 

He held her close. Satan, he was so warm and soft. She could feel one of his hands rubbing slow circles into her back and for some reason that small kindness made her cry even harder. She had almost lost this.

Crowley wasn’t sure how long it took for her to stop crying outright and end up making small, pathetic sniffling noises. She couldn’t pay attention to something as inconsequential as time as the other of the angel’s hands made its way up into her shoulder-length hair. 

Crowley couldn’t help it. The exhaustion and stress and adrenaline crash suddenly sweetened by delicious touch caused her to go boneless, right there in Aziraphale’s lap. His fingers brushed through the strands so gently, working down in long strokes. She knew it wasn’t at all demonic of her to enjoy being petted like this but Aziraphale then started scratching at her scalp and all thoughts were wiped out by waves of pleasure. 

“It seems I’ve been the one making assumptions this time,” he said softly. 

“Mm?” Crowley asked, concerned about what Aziraphale was talking about. 

“Shh, darling, just let me speak.” It was a few moments of hair petting before he started again. “I assumed—incorrectly, I might add—that because you were the one to initiate this relationship, that you would be more adept at navigating it. That you would know what you need and want.” There was another pause as Aziraphale continued his ministrations. It gave Crowley some time to comprehend what he was saying. 

“I thought, instead of asking, instead of seeing you for the being I know. And I know that you don’t like talking about these things, Crowley. And I know you’re very used to taking what you’re given. I haven’t been the best to you over the years—” 

“Ngk!” 

He clicked his tongue. “It’s true. I don’t have… the same instincts as you do, my dear. I want to touch your hair because it’s beautiful, and soft, and it makes you happy. I want to hug you because I don’t want you to be cold any longer. Selfishly, I confess also want affection because I’ve never had much of it in my life. From what I can gather it’s not the same as just… an innate desire to be close to you that you experience. But then I worry, too. Silly things, I’m sure. That you’ll think I’m leading you on somehow, because people tend to draw the wrong conclusions. That I’ll become too demanding of it, when there’s already so much I can’t give you. I worry that you’ll get tired of me. The foolish, stubborn, fussy creature that I am,” Aziraphale confessed bitterly. Crowley sat up to stare at him, shocked, but the angel continued on regardless, staring off into the distance. 

“That one day you’ll wake up and realise that you are beautiful and charming and good, and I am none of those things, particularly beautiful. Or that that day will come far too soon if we do anything more than hug whilst fully dressed. I also worry about hurting you, unintentionally, because your body and life are so different to mine.” He shook his head as if waking up and looked up at her. He offered a tight smile. “But none of that is doing either of us any good, clearly. It will be difficult, certainly, to be so honesty and upfront, but it is necessary, I believe.” Someone almighty, were those tears in his eyes? 

“Angel, fuck, you kind of threw a lot at me there,” Crowley stalled and tried to gather some semblance of coherent thought. 

“First of all, you _are_ good, despite what those bastards told you. You _are_ charming—how do you think you’ve gotten me to do so much for you over the years? Does Bastille ring a bell? All you have to do is give me a look and I’m gone, just gone.” 

Crowley braced herself around Aziraphale and ran a nervous hand threw her hair. His warm hands settled and rested lightly on her hips. “And fuck, angel. I know you’ll think it’s blasphemous but you are the most beautiful thing in the whole universe. Beautiful,” she repeated, stunned that he could think otherwise. 

“The other stuff. I dunno if we feel the same thing, obviously,” she said with a shrug. “Can’t do cause we’re not each other. And I don’t really get the whole break down of attraction thingy you’ve told me about, cause everything I feel is for you, anyway,” she rushed out, embarrassed. “But all of those are fine reasons to want to touch me, angel. Any of them are. Whether it’s an aesthetic thing or a warmth thing or more emotional. We’re partners, right?” 

Aziraphale gave a slow nod, unsure as to where she was heading. 

“It’s not selfish to want affection from me. If anything I’m the selfish one. I want anything you’ll give me, Aziraphale, but I couldn’t tell that you _have_ wanted anything, so why would I ask for it? Everything else,” she sighed, suddenly exhausted. “I think we’ll just have to talk about. But I love you, angel. The only thing I love in all of existence is you. And I’m going to try my damn best to make you believe it.” 

“I fear you may be right. In regards to talking about it, that is," he said with a sigh. “Oh, I do love you Crowley, and I am sorry it’s taken this long. But I’m going to try and get better at this, I promise.” 

“Thank you.” She carefully cupped the side of his face in her palm. “we’ll do it together.” 

^^^ 

After significant amounts of hair stroking, cuddling and general petting, during which Aziraphale would pause every few minutes to check in, both had calmed down significantly. They now sat next to each other on the sofa.

“Before I go and order us a takeaway dear, is there anything you wish to talk about? Perhaps what affected you so, if you can? There is of course no pressure and no obligation to. It’s only that I do hope to become a trusted confidant and that speaking about your heartaches may go a ways as to ease your mind.” 

Crowley immediately tensed up with dread. 

Aziraphale looked away. “Forget I said anything, Crowley, I can see that—” 

“Fire,” she rasped. Aziraphale frowned with concern and offered her a glass of water.

Crowley drank some and tried again. “The fire. It was a dream, of the bookshop again. Fire, and you were gone. Dead.” 

Aziraphale frowned deeper. 

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, Crowley. I was perfectly fine, you saw me at the pub—and then the airfield.” 

“Didn’t know that yet. Came here, didn’t I? Rushed in, always to your rescue. Nothing but fire and the roof falling in, though. Dream of it. A lot.” 

A contemplative silence filled the room.

“Then I’ll move.” 

“What?” 

“I’ll move, Crowley. I cannot in good faith be the one to remind you of such a horrible thing, over and over again. We can do what we like now—and though we haven’t discussed it, I don’t think you would particularly like moving into my flat, anyhow. It’s about time for a change, don’t you agree?” 

“I’m not going to make you give up the bookshop for _me_ , Aziraphale.” 

“You’re not, and you won’t. I am choosing to move—and I do hope you would come with me—for a sea-change, as the humans call it. I won’t sell the bookshop, it will still be here for when I need to return to it.” He patted the arm of the sofa for emphasis. 

Crowley could not let him do this. “But you’ve been in Soho for centuries! You’ve had the same waistcoat for longer, angel. You can’t convince me you just 'want a change'.” 

Aziraphale visibly bristled and tugged at his waistcoat. “Fine. I have just been informed that my place of work and residence causes my best friend _intense psychological distress_ and I believe that if I remain here the guilt will eat me alive, you will be uncomfortable at best, and both of these factors will chip away at our already precarious relationship.” 

“But—” 

“ _And_ I have to admit that after averting the end of the world the notion of starting our lives together, properly, in some place of our own has great appeal. Is that satisfactory?” 

A grin slowly bloomed on Crowley’s face. “You are a bit of a stubborn bastard, you know that, right angel?” 

“You do say such lovely things, my dear. Now,” he wiggled happily, “what do you think about the South Downs?”


	3. closer together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley asks a question. Aziraphale makes a move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: discussions of sexual attraction and associated guilt (there will be smut in this fic so if that's an issue for you, maybe stop reading now), nonconsensual tongue kissing (very brief, immediately apologised for)

Crowley was getting better at asking questions. They were so used to accepting what they were given—especially with Aziraphale—that the poking and prodding that came naturally to them fell by the wayside. At least when it came to the real stuff, the deep stuff. Not just the daily task of winding up a fussy angel. 

Even when Crowley was waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this to all suddenly fall apart, Aziraphale was a constant. Steady and comforting, they were beginning to actually trust his words and behaviour, enough to open up. 

“Do you experience… any kind of attraction, angel?” they asked one afternoon. They had been gardening most of the day and returned to find Aziraphale reading in his favourite chair.

He looked up from the page and nodded. “I think so, my dear. Mostly aesthetic—have I mentioned how beautiful you are today, incidentally? Platonic, of course. And sensual too, I suppose, though I haven’t much experience with it.” 

Crowley blushed at the compliment. “Not sexual then.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “Not particularly. It can be terribly messy, you know, and so much of the time we didn’t have running water. Miracles were harder to conceal and it didn't seem worth the fuss.” His look turned more thoughtful. 

“Though that’s more with the act itself rather than attraction. I haven’t ever looked at someone and wanted to have intercourse with them, which I think is what you were referring to.”

“Right.”

For a few moments his eyes drifted back down to the page but when Crowley didn’t continue, he looked back up. 

“Is everything alright, my dear?” 

Crowley shrugged. They knew it would come out eventually, and supposed it would be better to confess sooner rather than later. 

They covered their eyes with their hand. “I do, um, y’know. Feel _that way_ towards you. Quite a bit, really. An embarrassing amount, if I think about it,” they finished in a mutter. 

Aziraphale snapped his book shut. “Is that all?” he asked mildly. “Crowley, I do know that you’re not asexual. It’s perfectly natural, I’m told. Quite sweet of you, in fact, to fancy me,” he said in a terribly fond voice.

They shot up in their chair. “It’s not sweet! It’s, it’s _pervy_ and, and _wrong_ when you don’t feel the same! You’re an angel, for fuck’s sake! And here I am having _lustful_ thoughts about your, your bloody forearms!” 

Aziraphale removed his unnecessary glasses and cleaned them with the bottom of his shirt. “My forearms? Well, I have to say I’m flattered, darling. And a little concerned. You do know who you sound like at the moment?” Aziraphale said with a pointed look towards the ceiling. 

“Wha! Ngk!” 

“Are you planning to act on these… lustful thoughts of yours, Crowley?” 

“Of _course_ not! I know _you_ don’t want it, but-” 

Aziraphale held up a hand. “Then I am not concerned. As much as you don’t wish me to say it you are good, Crowley. I don’t believe for a moment you would violate my consent—especially with how slow-going this relationship is—and I don’t find the fact that you find me… sexy to be somehow offensive. Quite the opposite.” 

Crowley flung themself back in their chair. “Sexy!” 

“Exactly. I’ll even give you permission, if you like. Crowley, my love, I hereby give you permission to be attracted to me in any and all ways. Is that satisfactory?”

It was bad enough having these thoughts in the privacy of their own mind. Hearing Aziraphale so casually talk about their desires was enough to have Crowley’s head spinning. And yet, the angel continued on. 

“I don’t believe it would be a good idea for us to engage in sexual conduct this early into our relationship. Or this new stage of our relationship, anyhow.”

Satan alive. 

“I know we have been discussing an increase in touch in the past few weeks. I have some suggestions, if you would be amicable. I wouldn’t wish to make you uncomfortable, of course.”

“Me! Uncomfortable!”

“Yes you, Crowley. You’re clearly worried about hurting me in some way. I can tell when you’re being careful with me. But this is a relationship, a partnership, and I worry about you too. Perhaps if I take the lead for now?” 

They blinked at that and didn’t think before the next words fell out of their mouth. “What. Do you have in mind?”

“I mentioned sensual attraction before and to me that seems like the logical next step. Perhaps some closer looking and touching, if you’re amiable? If we’re both clear about where this isn’t leading, I have very few qualms.” 

“Are you sure, angel? I mean. Do you really trust me that much?” 

He pinned them with a soft look. “Of course I do, sweetheart. We can forget about the whole thing if you’d rather. Please do stop me at any point I make you uncomfortable.” 

“No! No, I, uh, definitely want to see you. Six thousand years and I don’t think I’ve seen more than your ankle.” Someone, their face felt on fire. This wasn’t at all proper demonic conduct—blushing over the idea of Aziraphale’s layers stripped off. 

“And a fair bit of calf, I should think. My goodness Greece was warm.” They both smiled at the recollection. Those were some of their fonder memories. “To the bedroom, then?” 

Aziraphale offered a hand and Crowley took it instinctively. They were carefully assisted to standing, mindful of their loose joints, and were lead to the bedroom. 

The bedroom was really the master and another room joined by a knocked down wall. It was only the two of them pottering around, most of the time—why not have the space? It also meant there was room for two beds: Crowley’s king from the Mayfair flat and another, smaller one on the opposite wall. Aziraphale hadn’t quite got the hang of sleeping yet and they were still practicing sleeping in a bed _together_ , so having options was important. It also meant Aziraphale would stay reading in the room at night no matter their configuration, which was of great comfort to Crowley. 

There was also a small table and chairs by the large window which overlooked the garden, the top of which featured a beautiful stained glass panel. Most of one wall was lined with books, the other with the better of Crowley’s plants (all according to them, of course). Wardrobes and a luxurious en-suite occupied the others. It had taken some miracling, but it was worth it. 

The angel came to sit on the end of what was most often his bed, all sunshine glow and pretty as a picture, except for the growing frown on his face. 

“You okay, angel?” Crowley asked and squeezed their still-linked hands for emphasis. 

Aziraphale gave them a nervous look. “Sit with me, please, my dear?” 

They did so, easing themself down to the supportive mattress. 

He thanked them quietly. “Although I have meant everything I have said I am also suddenly… concerned, about it.” 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” they assured him.

“It’s only,” Aziraphale let out a heavy sigh. “With, you know,” he gestured toward the ceiling with his free hand. “They weren’t particularly… respectful, of my boundaries. Or of myself,” he added glumly. “And, well. You know what they were like, about this corporation.” 

“Hard to remember the good things when all one's soft and squishy bits are vulnerable?”

He let out a small chuckle. “Indeed.” 

“We don’t have to do this now, angel. Not today, not ever if you don’t want to. Neither of us should be uncomfortable when we do stuff.” 

Aziraphale contemplated that for a while. “I want to. I know how good you’ll be to me,” he glanced at Crowley and smiled. “I trust you.” 

“Come here?” They released their hand and lifted up their arm. Aziraphale shifted over to cuddle into them.

The pair spent a few minutes like that. In the quiet and calm, simply breathing and being together. Crowley was the one to break it. “Maybe we should have a safeword, then,” they said softly. 

“Oh. That would be… good, I think.” 

“Yeah?” They were a bit surprised that Aziraphale accepted the idea so quickly. 

“Yes. Really, darling. After all of this you haven’t picked up on how much I value communication? And your well-being?" 

“Yeah, yeah, okay. What’s something that would stand out in conversation but that’s easier to remember for you?” 

“Hmm. Oh I know. What about aardvark?” 

They snorted. “Really?”

“Seeing as I still haven’t forgotten it, I believe it’s quite fit for purpose.” 

“Fine. Aardvark it is. Anytime you’re uncomfortable or unsure you can say it and everything stops. Well, you can say stop or ask questions anyway, but you know what I mean.”

“Of course, darling. With all of that discussion out of the way, shall we warm up, so to speak?” 

“Hmm?”

“With a more direct hug, perhaps? While I’m still dressed?”

“Sounds good.” 

Aziraphale turned and shuffled closer, and tucked himself against Crowley’s chest. 

It felt wonderful, to have their angel so close. He was so warm and soft against all of their flat planes and pointy bits. It made Crowley happy, an elusive feeling they thought they’d never properly have. 

Crowley wasn’t sure how much time passed like that. It didn’t matter anyhow, they had all the time in the universe. 

Eventually Aziraphale spoke again. “May I kiss your cheek, Crowley dear?”

“Yeah,” they murmured into the top of the pale curls. 

Aziraphale pulled back just enough to slot his face next to theirs and press a soft kiss into their cheek. He held them like that for a moment, pillowy lips caressing them so tenderly. Crowley’s eyes had fallen shut again in pleasure. 

They opened when they realised Aziraphale had pulled back. For a while they simply stared at each other, their hands somehow joined again. Then Crowley remembered the original plan. 

“Do you want me to get you undressed, or…?” 

Aziraphale patted Crowley‘s knee. “I think I better do it. I won’t have anything wrinkled, you know.” 

“‘Course, angel. We can’t have that.” 

With a final nod Aziraphale stood up and Crowley moved up towards the head of the bed. They needed to distract themself as Aziraphale undressed or else they would end up gawking at him. 

On the other side of the bed, Aziraphale removed his waistcoat and placed it neatly on the chair. His bow-tie followed and Crowley tried not to get distracted by the now bare throat. They stopped fluffing the pillows and fiddled with the objects on the bedside table, glancing at Aziraphale every few seconds. 

Aziraphale reached for the top button of his shirt then changed course and sat down on the edge of the bed. Crowley took the opportunity to watch his back with fascination. 

The shoes were removed and tucked under the chair. Now Aziraphale faced Crowley and looked at them coyly as he slowly, carefully undid the buttons. 

All pretense of not watching retreated as Crowley felt their face catch on fire. How could Aziraphale not see himself like Crowley did? He was the most gorgeous thing in creation. 

It wasn’t a traditional strip tease by any means, and Crowley knew Aziraphale wasn’t trying to be sexy. But Crowley was a simple demon and they had to discreetly swap their Effort anyway to ensure they both remained comfortable. 

The shirt joined the waistcoat and Crowley was treated to the vision that was Aziraphale’s bare chest in all its shimmering, stretch-marked glory. They suddenly felt dizzy. 

Aziraphale didn’t seem to notice completely or if he did, was too on task to become distracted. 

He turned sideways and started to take off his trousers. Crowley swallowed tightly and averted their gaze. They sat back down on the bed before they fell down and tried to focus on their breathing. 

Crowley managed to collect themself and had the piece of mind to turn up the temperature of the room by a few degrees. 

Aziraphale thanked them, but they kept their eyes down on the bed. This was… a lot. 

The final item Aziraphale removed was his sock garters, though he kept his socks on. He rubbed briefly at the indents they left on his leg, then lay down on the bed. 

Crowley steeled themself and looked up. No matter how overwhelming it was to have a near naked angel next to them in bed, Aziraphale’s face was too comforting for them to be scared. 

They slid across the sheets to lie next to him. “So, you come here often?” They asked in what they thought was their most suave voice. 

It had the intended effect and Aziraphale giggled at their silliness. “Hello, dear.” 

They bit their lip for a moment then realised that hesitating would get them nowhere. “Can I touch you?” 

Aziraphale nodded but looked a little unsure again, so Crowley waited. 

“Yes,” he said, and Crowley slowly reached their hand over towards him. “Just-” they stopped immediately, hand hovering in midair. 

Aziraphale grabbed it and placed in gently on his side. Crowley didn’t dare move lest they made the angel uncomfortable. 

Aziraphale continued in a soft voice. “Not, um, where my Effort would be if I had one. And don’t squeeze my chest, please. Like this,” he pulled their flat hand up and brushed over the aforementioned area, “is fine.” 

They hoped they would live up to his trust. “Thank you for telling me.”

The pair settled back into the pillows and Crowley slowly stroked up and down the pale softness of Aziraphale’s side. They watched the contrast for a few moments then looked back at Aziraphale’s face to make sure he was okay. His cheeks were pink, but he looked content. He smiled when they caught his eye. 

Crowley continued their motions and nodded at the pale blue pants stretched across the angel’s hips. “I like these. Is that alright to say?” 

Aziraphale hummed. “They’re not really your style.” 

“Course not. They’re yours, though. Suits you.” They both smiled at the private joke. 

“Cute.” Aziraphale scrunched their nose at the compliment, and Crowley booped it with their finger. “Very cute.” 

Crowley continued their slow strokes up and down Aziraphale’s expose skin, watching closely too see if he became uncomfortable. The angel shivered slightly—no doubt from being undressed—which gave Crowley the excuse to cuddle closer. 

They looked up into Aziraphale’s face and were slightly surprised to find that Aziraphale had been watching them, not their hand. 

Crowley got lost in the angel’s hazel-blue eyes, overwhelmed by the points of contact between them. 

“Kiss me, would you, darling?” Aziraphale whispered, as their heads move closer together. 

Crowley swallowed and nodded, equally thrilled and terrified at the prospect of Aziraphale’s lips on theirs. They ducked down slightly and close their eyes as soft, soft lips finally touched them. 

Crowley had to stop themself from moaning. It was barely a press of their mouths together, but it was everything. A hand came up to cradle Aziraphale’s face as Crowley slotted their lips together. 

It felt indecently good. The angle that Crowley was at and their intense need to be as close to Aziraphale as possible meant they didn’t even think before they opened their mouth and pushed their tongue forward. 

In the blink of an eye Crowley was pushed flat on their back on the bed. The looked at the ceiling for a moment, then sat up as they realised Aziraphale had thrown them off. Fuck.

Aziraphale sat next to them, arms around himself as he frowned at Crowley. “That wasn’t very pleasant.” 

Crowley rubbed a hand across their forehead. Aziraphale could have thrown them halfway across the room with his strength, thank Someone he didn't. 

“I’m sorry, Aziraphale," Crowley said and tried not to cry. "I didn’t ask before I, well, stuck my tongue in your mouth. It was wrong to do something like that and not get your consent beforehand. I’m sorry.” They knew they had fucked up and they knew how necessary the apology was. Crowley wouldn't be surprised if Aziraphale didn't want to talk to them ever again. How could they do something like that?

Aziraphale still looked at them with concern, but hadn't thrown them out just yet. In fact, he relaxed visibly as they spoke. “I forgive you, dear," he sighed, "but you really musn’t do that again. Not that it is likely, but I wouldn't have enjoyed that with anyone, not even you.” 

Crowley nodded, guilt abating somewhat. “I won’t. No mouth kissing til I can get a hold of myself. Promise.” 

“Very well,” Aziraphale agreed, though he remained on the other side of the bed. 

“Do you want me to go, angel? Do you need to be done with this?” They asked. They hoped to continue with the intimacy although they very much understood if Aziraphale didn't want to. 

Aziraphale inched closer. “No, I believe I’m fine, now.” 

Crowley let out a sigh of relief. “Let’s go back to the nice stuff, then?” Crowley suggested, and slowly lay back down next to Aziraphale. They hoped he would meet them in the middle. “That we both enjoy?” 

Aziraphale flushed slightly and silently agreed. He eased himself back down towards them and back into Crowley’s arms. He wiggled to get comfortable and Crowley bit on their lip to stop themself from cooing at how adorable he was. They relaxed into each other’s embrace and affection. 


	4. melting away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a request. Aziraphale happily obliges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: sexual attraction and desire, discussions and explicit depictions of masturbation (Crowley masturbates in Aziraphale's presence), Aziraphale-style dirty talk, general insecurities, mention of dysphoria/trauma. 
> 
> she/her for Crowley, she has a vulva and breasts

They both got a little bolder as the months went on. Aziraphale brought out a larger rotation of what he referred to as his “cuddle wear”, and Crowley became more comfortable with stripping down. She had, in turn, made some additions to her wardrobe, which she vehemently denied when Aziraphale attempted to comment on it. Affection flowed more freely between them, too. It became more habitual to reach out to the other, for a squeezed hand or a brief hug. The snuggling became longer, though that still required confirmation of boundaries and negotiation. Kisses, too, became more frequent, increased by Crowley blushing prettily each and every time. It was so easy to grant her these small joys, and Aziraphale was so happy to do so. 

They still both had bad days. It was harder for Crowley, sometimes, as she navigated ever-shifting dysphoria. They had their trauma and boundaries changed, sometimes hourly, but their missteps were fewer and fewer. Aziraphale and Crowley had made leaps and bounds now that the communication floodgates had opened and they were so happy to be spending this life together. 

The cottage became more lived in overtime. Crowley’s garden bloomed and she had sense of peace that Aziraphale had never seen before. They had picnics and walks by the seaside and trips to the village. They knew their neighbours, some better than others, and continued to bicker as they always did over wine and music. Crowley kicked herself, sometimes, when she remembered how she believed that Aziraphale being aromantic would end all of these possibilities. He was a being of _love_ and she had tried to pin it all into a little box. It had been foolish of her.

But they were here now, and they were here together. Moving and settling in and adjusting to their new life filled so much of their time that Crowley’s other desires somewhat faded. They were momentarily pushed to the side, until one fateful afternoon. 

Crowley entered the living room after a productive morning in the garden. The plants were yelled at less, these days, though of course Aziraphale didn’t need to know that. He was just as pleased with whatever Crowley grew, no matter if it was beautiful or edible (but preferably both). A restlessness had developed under her skin and in all honesty, she had planned to have a nap to try and get rid of it. 

That was until she caught sight of Aziraphale. 

He was curled up in his chair, as he usually was, reading with those ridiculous glasses perched on his nose. The sunlight made him glow but what was unusual about this picture was what he was wearing. 

A cream coloured, satin robe, and nothing else. 

As soon as Crowley saw the expanse of chest on view she turned around and left from whence she came. She found herself stuck in the doorway to the back garden and hoped that Aziraphale hadn’t noticed her temporary arrival. 

It was shocking, both to see so much of Aziraphale unprepared, and the feelings that the outfit had elicited within Crowley. She ached and she hated herself for it. She thought she could get over this. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called from behind her. 

She didn’t turn around. How could she face him, when she wanted what she did? 

“Is everything alright?” He tried again, and stepped closer to her. He didn’t touch her. 

She let out a grunt and kept facing forward. 

Aziraphale sighed. “Whatever it is, my dear, we cannot address it if you refuse to talk to me. Now, what is going on with you?” 

“I’m feeling… quite a bit of lust towards you, if you have to know.” 

“Is that all?” 

“Is that a—” Crowley turned around to face him, still in that bloody robe. “That’s all you have to say?” 

“Well, you could just ask me to leave if you want to. Or did you want to perhaps go and take care of it? I’m told it’s perfectly natural, it really doesn’t have to be such a big deal.” 

Crowley shook her head. “No, no. I’m fine,” she tried to promise. 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at her. “So you’ll be unsatisfied.” 

She let out a short laugh. “Wouldn’t be the first time, angel.” 

Aziraphale took a few steps forward toward her. “You don’t have to deny yourself, you know.” 

Now that was rich. “And you would know all about that, huh?” 

He frowned and folded his arms. “Yes. I denied the reality that Heaven didn’t actually care about Earth, or me. I denied you our friendship, in fear of retaliation. I’ve denied myself food and warmth and comfort because of guilt and shame and fear and self-loathing. I’m trying to work through that,” Aziraphale let out a breath and continued on more carefully. 

“If you want to masturbate, Crowley, or need to, don’t let my existence or our relationship be the one to stop you.”

Crowley blinked. “I hate it when you’re reasonable,” she lamented. She didn’t move as accepted that she had permission. The feelings of self-loathing faded a little in the wake of Aziraphale’s pragmatism. 

“Would you want to watch, angel?” The words left Crowley’s mouth before she really thought about them and cringed as she waited for Aziraphale’s reaction. 

The disgust never came. Instead, he did the wiggle that meant he was very pleased with something. “Ooh, yes.” 

“I didn’t think you would react like that.” 

Aziraphale gave a small shrug and stepped closer. He was now mere centimetres away. “All I want is to see you happy, all the days of our lives. I’ve been informed many times about the joy of orgasm and even if I don’t want to take part, of course I’d like to see you pleasure yourself.” He raised a hand near Crowley’s cheek and she leaned into it. 

“You are also so, incredibly beautiful, Crowley. I always love watching you.” 

Crowley couldn’t stop the small moan that left her mouth. Fortunately it only caused Aziraphale to smile brighter, even if she blushed with embarrassment. 

She cleared her throat. “Can we, um, go upstairs?” 

“Of course, my dear.” 

^^^

It was quick work for both of them to reach their bedroom upstairs. Crowley once more got stuck in the doorway—the hesitation had crept back in threefold. Did Aziraphale really want this? Did _she_?

Aziraphale, ever able to read her mood, slowly took her hand and led her further into the room. 

“Do what you need to,” he said and squeezed her hand. 

Crowley nodded. She left him to close the sheer curtains, which softened the light in the room considerably. She turned down the covers of the larger bed and disappeared into the en-suite to freshen up. 

Crowley miracled away the dirt from the day’s gardening, but it was nice to have the privacy as she splashed her face and fixed her hair. She stared at herself as she contemplated what was about to happen. 

Aziraphale was about to watch her get off. 

It scared her, but not as much as it excited her. And that’s why Crowley was nervous. 

She trusted Aziraphale more than anything. She knew how much he loved her, even if they experienced attraction differently, and that he would take care of her. 

Crowley still worried, though, that she wouldn’t like it, even if she wanted it. Or that Aziraphale would be uncomfortable. 

“Crowley? Are you alright?” Aziraphale called through the closed door. 

She shook herself, brushed her hair down once more, and left the bathroom. 

Aziraphale stood near the foot of the bed, failing to look casual as he pretended to read a book. He quickly closed it and placed it on the nearby table. 

“Crowley?” He asked again. 

Crowley shifted on her bare feet and wrapped her arms around herself. “Hug? Please?” 

In an instant Aziraphale was in front of her and pulled her into the requested embrace. 

Crowley breathed in his comforting scent and tried to relax. Aziraphale was warm and familiar, and held her gently in his arms. She felt… safe, and that did a lot to quiet her mind. 

After several minutes she pulled back and smiled at him. He beamed up at her, the absolute dork. She grabbed his hand and led him to sit on the chair by the bed. She sat down opposite him and wiggled back slightly on the mattress. 

“So,” Crowley began, then found herself at a loss for words.

Aziraphale squeezed her hand again. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, dear.”

“I know. I mean. I do, but it’s… a lot.” 

Aziraphale nodded. “What do you need?” 

And wasn’t that a big question? Crowley’s gaze fell to the floor as she thought about the answer. Aziraphale always respected her and her ever changing body. He made her feel safe and loved. But in the confines of her mind it was hard to remember that. 

“Uh, i need to feel safe? I mean, you always make me feel safe but… I need a reminder. Like… it’s personal, isn’t it, uh, self pleasure.”

“You can say masturbation, my dear.” 

Crowley rolled her eyes. “ _Fine._ Masturbation. And bodies are weird, mine more than most, and you can’t… make fun of me for it.” She cringed as she said it out loud. 

“I won’t, Crowley. I’m honoured that you’ll share your body with me. I love you and it, for the record. Always.”

She blew out a breath. That went better than she expected. “Cool, um, okay. I think that’s it, mostly. I don’t really know if it’ll be like I imagined it? So—“ 

“Our usual safewords, then?”

Sometimes she was glad for how perceptive Aziraphale could be. “Yeah.” Crowley shifted slightly as her arousal began to build once more as they got closer to the event. “Also whatsit, the thing you like, afterwards?” 

“Aftercare?” Aziraphale asked, amused. He placed his free hand on her knee. “What would you like?”

Although she assumed he was trying to be comforting, it only aided in increasing the itch under her scales.

“Uh,” Crowley said as she stared at it. “I don’t know. Probably a hug or whatever, dunno if I’ll want to be touched, though.” 

Aziraphale briefly rubbed her with his thumb. “We’ll see how you feel, alright? Is there anything else you need?” 

She shook her head and finally returned his gaze. “Not that I can think of.”

“Oh good.” Aziraphale’s eyes did that unfairly charming crinkling thing they did. “The floor is yours, my dear,” he declared as he gestured at the bed.

Crowley swiveled back to lie down on one of the pillows. With a snap she was wearing a short, satin shift. 

She smiled at Aziraphale then closed her eyes, mentally reaching for her arousal as her hands came up to stroke her thighs. 

The light touch made her shiver. It had been too long since Crowley had taken care of herself like this, but it all came rushing back in an instant. A hazy montage of fantasies and feelings rushed through her mind. 

Crowley dragged a hand up her leg, across her stomach, and up to one breast. She sighed as she cupped it and brushed her stiffening nipple with a thumb.

It felt wonderful and her other hand mirrored the action on its twin. The satin fabric was cool and smooth against her, providing a wonderful contrast. 

Soon it wasn’t enough and Crowley pushed the neckline of the dress down below her breasts. 

She tugged at her nipples as her thoughts drifted back to Aziraphale in that blasted dressing gown. 

It was ridiculous, but it worked for her. The expanse of light chest hair and the exposed legs, one crossed over the other. Crowley knew Aziraphale’s boundaries but her fantasy was her own. A hand slipped down and under the hem of the dress to tease at her slit. 

She was wet. Crowley pinched her nipple harder as her finger dipped in. She imagined taking the robe off Aziraphale, slowly, baring his naked form to her. Someone, he was attractive. 

Then Crowley remembered where she was, and that the angel was watching. It’s not as if he was obvious about it—the room was incredibly still and quiet. Aziraphale had never been the best at being human and her rarely remembered that he had to breathe, which was patently obvious at that moment. 

The flood of insecurity rushed back and Crowley stilled her hands. Her fantasy faded and she opened her eyes, unsure as to what she would find. 

Aziraphale was watching her. Of course he was, that was the whole point of the exercise. He had his legs crossed and his cheeks were lightly flushed. The expression on his face could best be described as… interest? Curiosity? Crowley wasn’t sure. He raised an eyebrow as her gaze met his. 

“Is everything alright, my dear?” 

Crowley closed her parted lips and tried to wet her dry mouth. “Um. ‘s too quiet?” She felt like a right tit saying so aloud.

Aziraphale folded his hands over his stomach. “You could put on some music, if you like?” He offered amicably. 

He was so _nice._ Why did he have to be so _nice_ all the time? Crowley rubbed her hand along her thigh, nervously this time rather than as a prelude to other actions. 

“Um.” 

“I take it that’s not what you’re after?” 

Crowley adjusted her dress, feeling exposed in more ways than one with the fabric bunched around her middle. “Not really. Would you talk to me, angel? I know I’m asking a lot, because you don’t feel this the way I do, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, never that—” 

Aziraphale held up a hand and Crowley bit her lip to stop herself from rambling. More blood had rushed from her head than she thought with the way she was nattering on.

“My dear,” Aziraphale dropped the hand once she stopped speaking. “I love you. Being with you isn’t a hardship, or a trial, or anything like what you’re implying. If I’m uncomfortable I will speak up, yes? Just as I trust you to do.” 

Crowley nodded slowly. 

“Good. Now, what would you like me to say?” 

Crowley’s eyes squeezed shut. “It’s embarrassing.” She waited for Aziraphale to say something else but it seemed he was just waiting for her to confess. Bloody patience of an angel. She sighed. “You know how you get when you talk about a fancy dessert? Like that thing with all the layers?” 

“Gâteau opéra?” The confusion was clear in Aziraphale’s voice but she was determined to get through this, even if she ran away once the conversation was done.

“Yeah. And you go on and on about the different components and the flavours and the textures or whatever? I want you to do that but talk about… me.” 

“I’m not sure I’m following, dear.” 

Crowley rolled on to her side and opened her eyes again. “Look, I know traditional dirty talk probably isn’t in your wheelhouse. And to be honest, I think it would weird me out more than ah, excite me, as it were. But the way you describe food and go on about how scrumptious things are and your little moans are… hot, Aziraphale. I find it hot, okay? And I thought we could utilise your aesthetic whatsit to come to a compromise.” 

Aziraphale gave her a small smile. “Thank you for explaining, Crowley. Although I’m not sure how skilled I will be at this. I’m a little worried about getting it wrong.” 

Crowley flopped onto her back. “Look. If it doesn’t work for me, I’ll kick you out and take care of myself, alright? I think this is the longest it’s taken me to wank in centuries.” 

Aziraphale chuckled. “I believe that’s fair. Shall we try again?” 

In lieu of a response, Crowley closed her eyes and ran her hands lightly over her body, trying to give into the sensation and forget the previous moment’s awkwardness. After she felt more comfortable she nodded, and heard Aziraphale shift in his chair. 

“You’re beautiful like this, Crowley. You are always beautiful, of course. But now I can take you in properly; wholly. Laid out like a feast for my eyes.” 

The warmth of Aziraphale’s words washed over her and Crowley felt herself starting to get wet again. She ignored it for the moment and returned to tugging at her nipples. 

“Your breasts are gorgeous. I admit, I have historically been more frequently attracted to males persons who usually have been flat chested, but of course, as in everything, you are absolutely singular to me. No matter your form I find you simply breathtaking. I’m not sure if you ever noticed but whenever you wore more revealing items of clothing, I admit I have found it quite difficult to not stare at your decolletage.” 

Crowley pinched her nipples and moaned slightly. “There’s something hypnotising about your hard nipples pressed against fabric, although seeing them now exposed it quite delightful I must say.” 

This was somehow even better than she had imagined, and Crowley’s hands quickly pushed up the hem of dress again. 

“I love your form, so different to my own. Perhaps it’s that very contrast that attracts me, but I’ve always been intrigued by your sharp planes and curves in places that I do not possess. Your hips especially, and that wily walk of yours.” 

Crowley teased her internal clit from the outside then soon dipped a finger in, gathering up the slick that had started dripping from her hole. 

“Yes, that walk I’ve found particularly enchanting, especially when you wear those tight trousers of yours. You are temptation incarnate, my darling,” Aziraphale said in a lower voice. Crowley couldn’t help the moan that slipped out of her mouth as she reached her swollen clit. 

“Swaggering about like that, having all manner of eyes on you. Very devilish indeed. But I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, aren’t I? That makes me the luckiest being on the whole planet.” 

Crowley’s other hand came down to tease at her sensitive entrance as she rubbed her clit more firmly. She spread her legs, exposing herself further. She could feel the arousal building in her very core, fueled by Aziraphale’s intoxicating words. Crowley sunk into the pleasure, letting go of the fears and doubts that had been plaguing her. 

“Oh, that does look enticing,” Aziraphale murmured. “Does it feel good, dearest? Seeing you give yourself pleasure is a sight to behold. You must be aching by now with how long you’ve been holding back.” Crowley moaned, louder this time. She was almost there. 

“My love, I cannot wait to see you peak for me. To see you in the throes of ecstasy will only enhance your beauty, I’m sure of. Let yourself go, now, Crowley. Please.” 

Crowley rubbed faster and thrust one finger inside herself, seeking out her g-spot. The dual stimulation pushed her further and further towards orgasm until she climaxed. Crowley shook as wave after wave of arousal washed over her and her tensed muscles eased as rode it out. Crowley’s fingers kept circling her clit and g-spot as she milked every last bit of it. Eventually she grew oversensitive and gently removed her hands, dropping them to her side. 

Crowley panted unneeded breaths in the aftermath. _Wow._ That had been the best orgasm she had had in quite a long time. Her mind felt blessedly clear again. It was obvious that she had needed that. 

Then she remembered where she was. 

She peeked open one eye to look at the angel, although she was too blissed out to be properly worried about his reaction. Crowley needn’t have feared, because Aziraphale beamed at her with his perfect smile. 

“How was that, my dear?” 

“Great, angel,” Crowley replied, not even attempting to obscure her satisfaction. 

“Oh, good.” Aziraphale gave a little happy wiggle, the absolute dork that he was. “Now, I know this form more than others are capable of multiple org—” 

“I’m fine!” She quickly cut him off and sat up. “More than, really. Though it was… a lot. Let’s move on to, the, um,” Crowley tugged her dress into place. “The thing.” 

“Aftercare?” Aziraphale reached out and offered her his handkerchief. Crowley took it and wiped at her hands. It was a nice gesture, even if they were both capable of miracles. “Of course.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to add a chapter after this one solely dedicated to aftercare, because it's important and nothing I've been reading lately has been long enough for my taste. I can't promise that it will be as long as this chapter but knowing me, anything is possible

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me on tumblr @ineffable-anathema


End file.
